


Frozen Up

by SouthernBuck



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Acrophobia, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hosea is a dad, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Humiliation, Phobia, Whump, family arguments, gang family feels, kinda silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernBuck/pseuds/SouthernBuck
Summary: Arthur Morgan is afraid of nothing. He'll walk into gunfire and take on any task guns blazing.So when he freezes up in a very inconvenient place, it takes them all off guard.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	Frozen Up

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 5am but it gave me a giggle so I'm posting it anyway X3

“You sure there ain’t a safer way to get to this place? I’m sure we could find a trail, bring the horses.” Hosea calls out loudly across the cliff face to Dutch, who’s leading the group up ahead.

“Lost your spine down there, old friend?” Dutch’s playful voice can be heard, only carried slightly by the heavy wind, “It’s fine, this old rock is sturdy as anything. We’re all capable men, none of us too old to handle a little climb, not even you. This is the fastest route, and Arthur can catch you if you slip.”

Arthur thinks otherwise and grunts irritably as his hand seeks out another ridge to hoist himself up with.

Dutch has a point, it would take hours to hike the narrow winding trails to the top of this towering snowy ridge, they were all already chilled to the bone, it made sense to get to their chosen spot and set up camp as fast as possible. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

They’d been out since the sunrise on the trail, him, Dutch, Hosea, Micha, Bill, and Charles. A train job, wasn’t due to come through until the morning but the area was crawling with O’Driscols. Which made sense seeing as Bill had gotten the information on it FROM some O’Driscols.

It sounded like a decent take, a train carrying payroll, weakly guarded as he headed through the mountains under the assumption no bandits would be stupid enough to be handing around in such a harsh environment. Still, Arthur couldn’t help but feel irritated that they were once again mixed up in O’Driscol business, all because Dutch felt he had to constantly one up the bastards even if it was risky.

They just needed to hit the train early on the tracks, get in, get the money, get out before the other gang arrived. The O’Driscol bastards would find the train empty later down the line and be furious. It sounded like a great plan, two birds with one stone, but Arthur had doubts it would be that easy.

For now though, all they needed to worry about was climbing the sheer face of this icy cliff to the highest ledge to set up camp for the night. It was a perfect spot, well hidden, too high to worry about being shot at from the ground, out of sight, with a clear view of the train tracks.

Arthur had, of course, been lumbered with the heaviest bag and told to trail the group at the bottom as they climbed, under the assumption he was strong and capable enough to grab anyone if they were to fall. Under any normal circumstances he probably would be able to, but between his numb fingers from the cold and unsteady grip on the small jutting ledges, he’s barely sure he can keep himself stable without having to worry about grabbing anyone.

“I’m just worried about folk is all. Anyone gets hurt and we’re a long way away from civilization to get help. It’s a damn long way to fall,” Hosea grunts back at Dutch, hooking his fingers in an icy crevice in the rock to support himself as he hoists his leg up to the next ledge with a heavy puff. Arthur can’t help but admire how limber the man is for his age.

“Will you just have a little faith for once, no one is going to fall. Just stop thinking and climb,” Dutch snaps back, clearly frustrated with going around in circles on this topic. “You boys keeping up?”

“Right behind you, Boss,” Micha calls first. Arthur watches the bootlicker of a man climb without fear just behind Dutch and Hosea, Bill and Charles nearly shoulder to shoulder behind him call muffled shouts of agreement too.

“Arthur?” Dutch shouts down, not attempting to look back, and he realises he’s the only one who hasn’t spoken in a while. Too focused on finding stable hand and footholds as he shuffles up the cliff at a snail’s pace behind them all.

“Yeah, no problems back here.” He shouts up gruffly, knee scraping the jagged sharp ice as he pulls himself up with a grunt.

“I’ve been thinkin’-“ Bill calls over the loud winds loudly enough for them all to hear.

“Didn’t know you were capable of thinking,” Hosea shouts back playfully, and from below them Arthur watches Bill stiffen challengingly before grunting and continuing to climb.

“I been thinkin’, Morgan always gets to break the safes on these jobs, but he ain’t fast at it. One of you should show me how to crack the things. I know you think I ain’t smart but I got quick fingers, trust me on that.”

Dutch seems to ignore the man as he pauses to consider which ledge ahead of him would make the most secure hand hold, but Hosea glances down at him with a raised brow, “I’ll pretend to be impressed you’re interested in learning anything new but I know you just want to get out of being on guard.”

“You hearin’ this shit?” Bill grunts at Charles next to him, who seems to merely roll his eyes as he works his way easily along the rock to the next overhang.

“I started teaching Arthur to crack safes when he was fifteen, you wanna dedicate the next twenty or so years to perfecting it then I’ll happily give you some lessons” Hosea calls back.

Arthur can’t help the smug grin that twitches on his lips at Bill’s disheartened look.

“It’s a stupid skill and a waste of time in my opinion. Never found a safe that can’t be blown up ten times faster than it can be cracked,” Micha sneers, glancing over his shoulder to throw Arthur a smug look as he bumps his boot against the rock to dislodge the crusted snow on the sole, letting it fall on him.

He winces as the clumps hit him in the face but doesn’t waste any energy retorting, any reaction would only give the little bastard what he wanted.

“Some jobs require stealth, not dynamite. We don’t need a massacre on our hands tomorrow. It’s a quick in and out job, if we’re careful then no-one has to die,” Hosea returns exhaustedly, a hint of pleading in his tone.

“Have you always been this much of a bore, old man?” Micha calls back in amusement.

Up ahead, Dutch finally pulls himself onto the top ledge and lets out a heavy breath before standing and rolling his shoulders. He glances around, nodding in apparent approval at the space, before turning back and kneeling on one knee as he holds down a hand to help up Hosea just behind him. “Easy there, old girl. Don’t want to throw out your back,” The man laughs as Hosea stumbles next to him with a steadying breath and rubs at his cold thighs, glancing down at the others.

“Christ, we’re up high. Didn’t look this bad from the ground I tell ya,” Hosea chuckles, waiting crouched by the cliff edge for Bill and Charles to catch up while Micha Climbs up next to them, Arthur still a little ways behind them.

It’s the old man’s words that make him do it. He’s dimly aware that he shouldn’t. Arthur Morgan has never been afraid of heights, in fact there is very little in this world that can shake him, but he knows that looking down is a fools move. Yet without thinking he turns his head to take in the drop below him and suddenly his stomach feels like it drops through him. “JeSUS” He huffs out, clenching his eyes shut when the view starts to sway woozily and unconsciously pressing himself as close to the rock as he can.

“You alright, Arthur?” Hosea calls, not glancing at him as he grabs Bills wrist to steady the heavier man as he makes it onto the ledge as well, “Try and catch up, you’re falling behind, son.”

“Yeah, all good, right behind ya,” Arthur shouts, trying to mask the breathlessness that’s suddenly taken over his lungs. He hisses a curse to himself as he steadies his breath and forces his eyes open, eyes fixed above him firmly as he slowly moves to grab the next ledge.

His fingers find the rock and he pulls against it to lift his foot.

His soul leaves his body when the rock comes loose and he slips, letting out a choked cry.

It’s only a fraction of a second before he’s caught himself. Numb fingers gripping desperately to the rock face again, feet finding new grips, but it takes nearly a full minute before he comes back to reality from the whirlwind of panic that takes over his mind at the sudden brush with death.

“You good, Morgan?” Bill shouts down, making him glance up at the five faces staring him down in concern from the top of the cliff. Well. The four concerned faces and one smug one.

He must look a little pale because Hosea holds his hands up gently like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse, “You hurt?”

“No, nah. I’m fine. I’m- go get set up, I’ll be right there. Just need a second to catch my breath.” He calls up to them, unconvinced even to himself by the slight shake in his voice.

It must be enough to reassure them though, as one by one the faces disappear back, leaving only Hosea watching him with curious eyes, “I’ll stick around and keep you company, it’s only a bit further.”

Only grunting in response, Arthur screws his eyes shut again and presses his forehead to the icy rock, giving himself a moment. He breathes deeply and opens his eyes again.

And doesn’t move.

He can see the grip just above him, it looks solid, it’s within reach. He just needs to reach up and grab it. The icy wind is assaulting his bare hands and face and he needs to get climbing.

Five minutes pass and he still hasn’t budged. Unable to force any of his limbs to just damn move.

“You sure you’re alright?” Hosea calls down, a little softer this time perhaps in hopes of keeping it between the two of them, “You’ve uh, you’ve gotten a bit quiet.”

“I’m fine! Just-“ He tries to call back, eyes transfixed on the grey rock inches in front of his face, forcing himself not to look up should the growing colour in his cheeks or nervousness in his eyes betray him, “Just need a minute. Bag is kinda heavy. Go set up with the others, I’m fine.”

The older man looks utterly unconvinced, raising an eyebrow at him over the edge. All the same, after a few moments he sinks back out of view and Arthur can’t help but sigh in relief, a little less rushed without eyes on him.

It doesn’t last long.

“Hosea says you’re stuck?”

He glances up and groans as both Dutch and Hosea glance down at him this time, knocking his forehead against the rockface in embarrassment. “I ain’t stuck.”

“Move then,” Hosea requests, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline and arms folded as he stares him down with a no nonsense look.

Arthur grits his teeth, glaring at the rock.

“Told you, he’s stuck.”

“Son, why ain’t you moving? Did the bag get caught on something?” Dutch asks impatiently, shifting from foot to foot in the cold snow.

He groans again exhaustedly, damn near wishing he had fallen to his death. “No. Agh, I…I’m fine, just go set up. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“I hate to break it to you but it’s been more than a minute, Arthur. You can’t just stay clinging to that ledge for the rest of your life,” Hosea calls, squatting as he watches him, “Just keep moving and don’t look down again, you’ll be fine.”

“I know that,” He grits out impatiently.

Another few minutes pass and shame rolls uncomfortably in his stomach.

“How comes Morgan’s takin’ so long? Fire’s already ready.” he hears Micha grunt from above, irritated that more people are coming to witness his pathetic display.

“Ahh, he nearly fell and it’s made him yellow. Can’t get him to move,” Hosea answers, though it sounds drowned out by the heavy wind.

“I ain’t yellow,” He shouts back up at the in frustration, refusing to look up and meet their eyes, “-and I ain’t stuck! Just get outta here will ya. Christ.”

“Didn’t know the cowpolk was such a fan of heights,” Micha remarks, sounding far too pleased with himself, “You gonna stay down there all day shitting your pants or you gonna get up here and actually help out for once?”

“Fuck off, Micha.”

“It ain’t that scary, Morgan. I’m pretty sure even if you did slip, those trees would break your fall,” Bill calls down casually.

“I don’t think talking about falling is going to help his situation.” That was Charles.

“Jesus, I ain’t a damn circus attraction. Does everyone gotta sit there and watch this?” Arthur snaps, hoping the anger would be enough to deter them. He risks another glance down at the trees, little green splatters below barely the size of pennies, and immediately feels a fool as his stomach does flips and he presses himself against the rock as flat as he can go, screwing his eyes shut with a curse.

“Why would you think looking down was a good idea?” Dutch shouts down chidingly, and Hosea elbows him threateningly.

“You’re fine, Arthur. Take a deep breath and keep your eyes on us. You just have to move.”

“You think I ain’t tryin’ to?! Give me a damn minute!” Arthur shouts back in frustration. He groans, a wave of light-headedness coming over him as he presses his lips into a thin line and prays he won’t heave up his breakfast down himself.

Another few minutes pass.

“Arthur, you have to move. This is getting ridiculous,” Dutch calls impatiently, “Go back down if you need to, set up camp elsewhere and meet up with us in the morning.”

Arthur grimaces as he glares daggers into the rock. “I can’t.”

“Whaddya mean you ‘can’t’?” Dutch snaps back irritably, losing patience quickly while the others watch him in awkward silence.

Shame only further fuels his nausea and he seethes quietly, cursing under his breath, “I mean I can’t fuckin’ move. I ain’t going up and I ain’t going down. I can’t. Move.” His numb hands grip the stone hard enough to leave a mark and his legs feel like jelly, it’s a low moment and god he fucking hates that they’re here to see it, especially damn Micha.

“That ain’t an option, you can’t just stay there. I thought I raised a man, not a coward”. Dutch throws his hands in the air in frustration and Hosea elbows him again, the two of them looking on the verge of a fight. “Damn well figure it out, Arthur!”

“For christ sakes, lay off him will you. He can’t damn well help it,” He hears Hosea snap back.

“We should just leave him to it, he’ll crawl up eventually when he grows a pair,” Micha suggests.

“We ain’t just leaving him on the side of a cliff,” Hosea replies exhaustedly.

“Well what the hell do we do about this?” Dutch grumbles.

“I don’t know. You’re the one who always has a plan for everything!”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to have known in advance that he’d lose his nerve halfway up a damn cliff?! Kid’s been getting shot at and thrown around since he was knee high to a grasshopper and he’s never frozen up before!”

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP,” Arthur shouts, his head pressed against the rock and his shoulder quivering, but in fear or anger he isn’t sure anymore. “I can handle this myself! Just give me some damn space.”

“You ain’t in any place to be making demands, trembling like a little girl down there,” Bill calls playfully after a moment, breaking the silence, and Arthur lets out a sigh that’s close to a snarl.

He just about debates just throwing himself off the damn cliff and being done with it.

No one speaks and he wonders if they’ve finally left. He doesn’t glance up, unable to drag his eyes away from the spot on the rock he’s focusing so hard on. The silence should be a blessing. He doesn’t want them seeing him like this, it’s goddamn mortifying. Yet the sudden absence of voices is jarring. Despite the embarrassment of it all he finds himself wishing they’d come back so he at least wasn’t stuck here alone.

There’s a shuffle.

Then a louder one.

He manages to tear his eyes away from the rock to glance woozily up despite the uncomfortable vertigo, and to his surprise is met with Charles barely a foot away to his left, rope around his waist and another in his hand.

“You alright?”

He grunts quietly, confusion etched onto his features as he glances up and down the other man questioningly. Charles, to his credit, seems to understand and holds up the rope in his grip.

“Gonna tie this around you and we’ll pull you up. Think you can move your body away from the rock a little so I can get this around you?” His voice is calm yet firm, and the despite his question being more of a demand, it puts him slightly more at ease and he very slowly shifts his middle section away from the flat rock. “Thank you. Just sit tight,” Charles hums gently as he reaches over and wraps the rope around his middle, tying it in a tight knot, “You’re going to have to let go of the cliff and hold the rope. It’s stable, they’re holding it up there, but take your time.”

He nods sharply in understanding, wishing he could come up with some snide remark or cocky comment but feeling words escape him as the tight rope fastens around his coat and he comes to terms with the terrifying fact he’s going to have to let go.

Charles watches him quietly, expression unreadable as he moves his hands to the nearest ledge as if about to make his way back up. He pauses against the cliff and gives him a thoughtful glance, “You want me to hold onto you while you let go?”

Heat rushes into his face as he grits his teeth, mortified at even the thought, and he throws the other man a fierce glare. Charles doesn’t seem phased, simply holds a hand up defensively before taking to the cliff and starting to climb.

Panic washes over him like a wave. “Wait-“

The other man glances back at him, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. Hesitating only for a moment he shuffles back down and steady’s his feet on a ledge, then wraps his arms around the broader man’s waist. “You won’t fall,” He assures firmly, saying nothing more, which he’s grateful for.

Arthur Morgan has done a lot of arguably terrifying things in his life, from facing off with murderers to being thrown through windows with the force of dynamite. Though at this moment he thinks letting his fingers slip from the icy ridge might be the most unpleasant. Simply releasing his grip and letting himself fall victim to gravity.

His fingers ease free, immediately snapping to the rope as he feels the fierce tightness of it around his waist, swearing viciously under his breath as he clenches his eyes shut as tight as possible. The terror abides as soon as it comes when he doesn’t fall, the rope easily supporting his weight. He lets out a loud breath, focusing on the pain around his middle rather than the sickening drop below his dangling feet as Charles releases him and climbs back up the cliff with ease.

“Lord, you’re heavy, Arthur. Think it’s maybe time to lay off second helpings of the stew”, He hears Dutch call from above, glancing up to see him, Micha and Bill near the edge, gripping the rope and pulling.

“It’s all muscle,” He calls back, an attempt at light-hearted humour despite the fact his whole body feels tense and numb, helpless to the sheer drop beneath him.

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that,” Dutch teases back, a little less irritable than before as he steps back, tugging the rope to haul him, the three of them grunting with the force.

He watches in a dazed mixture of relief, guilt and shame as they pull him closer to the top, bracing his feet against the rock and gripping the rope for dear life as he shuffles along best he can to help the process.

He catches sight of the man do it. Micha, locking eyes with him, grinning an awful grin, then suddenly letting go of the rope, causing the other two to suddenly pitch forward.

He drops suddenly, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as the support is gone and he feels himself pitching to his death.

It’s only a few seconds before they regain control and the rope digs viciously into his gut. Piss streams down his inner leg and he isn’t sure whether it’s from the terror of nearly plunging to the ground or the rope crushing his bladder, but at this moment he couldn’t care less as he clings to the rope for dear life, gritting his teeth as he takes labored breaths, ears ringing so hard he is unsure whether the men above are speaking to him or not.

“Micha, when I get up there I’m going to tear your head off your damn neck and shove it up your ass.” He grits out breathlessly, irritated that he probably doesn’t sound nearly as threatening as he wants to at this moment in time.

“Easy, easy, we’ve got ya, Big guy,” Hosea calls softly, voice gentle and reassuring as they slowly continue pulling him back up.

When he finally reaches the ledge it almost doesn’t feel real for a moment. He wastes no time in scrambling up with them, Charle’s and Hosea’s hands grabbing both of his arms to near pull him to safety. He stays on his hands and knees, head dropped exhaustedly as he catches his breath long after the rope goes slack and Charles crawls over to untie it from his waist for him.

“What, no thank you to us for saving your pathetic ass?” Micha amuses, nudging Arthurs side with his foot.

“Give the man some space,” Hosea demands, tone leaving no room for argument as he moves Micha away forcefully by his shoulder, “Go put some coffee on the stove, we all need to warm up. Bill, go fetch him a change of clothes from my bag.”

“Christ-“ He mutters, voice barely an exhausted wheeze as he sits up, still dizzy and all too conscious of their closeness to the edge.

“Happens to the best of us, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Charles says softly, putting a hand gently against his back.

Arthur groans, running a hand across his face and through his messy hair. “Thank you for uh….this. Sorry I….Jesus. I don’t know what happened.”

“He’s right, we’re all human even you. Everyone freezes at some point,” Hosea mumbles kindly, moving to his side with a warm mug of the coffee and pressing it into his hands, “Hell, one time me n’ Dutch were riding up near Tumbleweed, seven, eight years ago now. The count threw him and he landed right by a damn rattle snake. I was yellin’ at him to get up and get the hell away from it but he was frozen there in a damn daze not moving a muscle. If I hadn’t have had the reflexes to shoot the damn thing he’d have been bitten something nasty.”

Dutch scowls, throwing his arms to the side in a vague threatening gesture. “Your memory must be slipping old man, because I’m sure I remember you swearing you’d take that to your grave.”

He sips the hot coffee despite it burning his tongue, letting out a long breath and rubbing his side painfully. Despite the ache in his side and the humiliation of everything, the shame fades a little and he manages to crack a small smile at the story. Fear gone and replaced with warmth as he listens to the two men bicker, the warm crackle of fire, the sounds of family.


End file.
